My Lover's Curse
by BasiaM82
Summary: Two lovers are separated by a cruel and selfish plot when one is exiled into the mortal realm. And even though she has no memory of him, her soul calls to his and he feels it to his core. So he waits, holding on to the hope that she will find her way back to him.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Jim Henson studios and have no ownership of a number of the characters in this story. **

**My Lover's Curse**

_Prologue_

There are those who believe that when we die, our souls separate from our bodies and either spend the rest of eternity basking in some version of paradise, or burning in a dark inferno. There are others who believe that once our bodies expire, our souls move on to another vessel and live life after life, either indefinitely or until we've learned all we've needed to learn and can finally retire our souls to the more pleasant of the aforementioned resting places. And, of course, there are those who believe that we have no soul and our existence ceases when our body does.

It is an age-old debate that will likely never be settled. There has never been a reliable source of information on the topic; dead people don't talk, after all. Of course there are those who claim to speak to the dead (often for a price) and there have been books written and films made about people seeing the afterlife in a near-death experience. But for every believer, there is a skeptic who vehemently denounces each claim, demanding solid proof. And so they continue to circle the question, believing what they feel is true, but never truly knowing.

Unless the people in question are immortals, living in the Underground.

The soul of an immortal is just that – immortal. Whether the body lives 10 or 10,000 years, the soul always lives on. The proof is in the binding of souls. With the rise in marriages for convenience, strongly bonded souls are a rarity and so this fact is slowly turning to faith among the young Fae, but there are still a few (elders mostly) who feel the tug of a lost love's spirit as it re-emerges in another body, or as it waits for when the time is right to reunite. This is even true for immortals living Aboveground. Although their bodies age much more quickly due to the lack of magic, their essence continues to move from one generation to the next for as long as each body will hold them. Each new body has no memory of lives past, but legends say that spirit memories can be awakened in the physical mind under the right circumstances and that even a body born in the Aboveground with an immortal soul can become immortal with the magic of the Underground.

So why the discussion of life after death? Because, once upon a time, in the Underground, there lived a young king, who found his soul's mate only to have her stolen from him and banished to the Aboveground before they could begin their life together. For centuries he could do nothing but watch her live and die through his crystals. Each tug of her spirit against his reminding him of what he lost, but also left him clinging to an ever-fading hope that the ancient stories were true. That one day, his queen would be returned to his side and he would once again find peace in her embrace.

**A/N: So this is my first story in this universe. I will state right now that I'm not really well-versed in mythology of any kind, so I'm pretty much just making the rules up here as they suit the story. And while I will probably be using my old pal Google to help find some info, I really don't have time to do any extensive research. So if there are inconsistencies in the mythology then please don't be too harsh. **

**Also, please be aware that although I've done some pre-writing and I have a pretty good idea where this story is headed, there will be times where there might be some spaces of time between updates. I have a little one who loves to mash the keyboard buttons, so most of my writing is done when she's in bed. In addition, I don't have a beta, so even though I try to read over my work carefully, the odd spelling and grammar error will slip through. It's also been quite some time since I've written anything, so words might not flow as nicely as they should. Feel free to point out my mistakes, make suggestions, or offer constructive criticism. **


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 1_

_Thirteen years ago…_

The barn owl swooped in through the open window, and in a show of fog and glitter, landed as a tall, regal man dressed in silk and leather.

"Damn!" he cursed, pounding his fist onto the solid wooden desk. "Damn, damn, damn!" He swept his arm across its surface, sending all that was on it to the floor. Gloved fingers raked through wild, blond hair as he paced the length of his study. He'd known that she was too young, but when he answered the summons and stood mere steps away from the face that was a source of both anguish and comfort in his dreams, all reason was lost in favour of an irrational yearning. Determined to get what he wanted, he was excessively cruel, tossing any obstacle he could think of at her in the hopes that when she failed, her integrity would force her to accept his offer to keep her and return her brother to her parents. She'd be angry at first for having her sense of morality used against her but, perhaps once (if) she remembered everything again, she would forgive him.

Despite his best efforts though, she didn't fail, and he was perhaps left worse off than before having her within his grasp, only for her to be ripped away again. In retrospect, his plan was absurd, fueled by too much passion and not enough logic. She was far too tenacious to let the Labyrinth's tricks get the better of her. If she weren't, she would not be his Sarah.

He stopped in front of one of the many windows lining the wall of the study and leaned his forehead against the cool glass. Closing his eyes, he thought back to the crystal dream. He had hoped that if it didn't spark some memory of him in her mind, then at least she would at least dance with him until her time expired. As he held her, he marveled at how much she felt the same as she did so long ago. It renewed his faith that all those stories the elders told of soul mates were more than just romantic prattle.

Behind him, the heavy, wooden doors creaked open. "She was here," the deep, gravelly voice spoke from the entryway.

"Yes, she was," Jareth answered, without moving.

"And?" the visitor asked, stepping further into the room.

With a sigh, Jareth pushed off the window and turned. From across his desk he saw the second prince of the Eternal Forest, and general of the High King's army. He stood only and inch or two taller than him, but with far more bulk. His skin was deeply tanned with sable hair and green eyes - eyes that reminded Jareth so much of her. "And nothing Aiden, she's gone now."

"You let her go?" there was no accusation in Aiden's tone.

Jareth shrugged, "I had no choice; she'd overcome every obstacle, solved every puzzle and successfully completed the labyrinth. Not even the offering of her deepest desires would distract her from her goal. Besides, she was much too young – a mere babe at only 15 mortal years."

"Even in another life, my sister still remains as stubborn as an ass," Aiden quipped. Jareth gave a half-hearted smile that quickly faded. Aiden stepped closer and clamped a large hand on Jareth's shoulder. "I know you've always watched her with your crystals, but this is the first time you've physically seen her since she was taken from us. Are you alright?"

"As alright as I can be I suppose," Jareth shrugged. Aiden let his hand drop.

"We all miss her too, you know," Aiden spoke. "You don't need to isolate yourself from us. Your parents worry about you, and so do mine. Even Adrian asks about you now and again and he's as reticent as they come. No matter where Sarah is at this moment, we are still your family, and that will not change. At the very least you could come to me; we were friends long before you married her."

Jareth glared at Aiden. "And what good will it do for me to blubber on your shoulder?"

Aiden planted his hands on his hips, "It's been 800 years, Jareth. Perhaps it's time for you to move on. You will one day take your father's place as High King and you will need a successor for this kingdom."

"We're immortal beings, Aiden; I have all the time in the world."

"Do you? And do you suppose your father will wait forever before he steps down?"

Jareth straightened and crossed his arms, "I wasn't aware that my father was entertaining retirement plans."

"That's not the point. He's not the only one you have to worry about. A king that goes so long without an heir tends to make people feel uneasy," Aiden said.

Jareth narrowed his eyes, "What do you know?"

Aiden sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "Nothing concrete. But, there've been whispers around the court."

"Whispers," Jareth scoffed. "I wasn't aware that the general of the High King's army had become one of the court's gossip mongers."

"It's my job to listen to everything, including the court gossip. My point is, that it's only a matter of time before the nobles of the court begin to put pressure on the king about his son's lack of heir. And I'm sure that a few of them would love to make a deal to elevate their own social statuses by marrying off their daughter to the future High King." Aiden let his arms fall to his side, " She would understand, you know. She knows what court politics are like and would rather see you happy with someone else than for you to wallow in grief because of her. And wouldn't you rather choose to be with someone you at least liked, if not loved, than to be miserable with someone you were forced to marry?"

"And how exactly could they force me to marry?" Jareth spat. "Will my father line up every eligible noble woman outside my chambers and have me fuck each of them? I can see it now: the first one to prove she is with child will win the title of Goblin Queen. Failing that, I suppose His Majesty will just have to strip me of my title and my kingdom and give it to one of the sycophants in our extended family." Cold, blue eyes challenged Aiden to argue with him. After moments of silence he softened. All the tension fell from his shoulders and he blew out a long breath. "I've tried. I really have, but I can't. To touch another is all but repulsive," he gave a humourless chuckle. "Eight-hundred years and I still feel it as if it were yesterday. I _still_ can't sleep in the master's chambers." He shook his head and turned around to face the window again.

Aiden studied his childhood friend in this rare show of weakness. To most, there was nothing amiss about the Goblin King. He was a stern, but fair, monarch who was feared, yet well-liked by his subjects. To the few who really knew him though, his pain was like an angry scar bisecting his face. "Please, Jareth, at least think about what I've said. I know the ancient stories say that the time must be right, but when will it be right? What will it take for you to finally decide that you need to move on in _every _aspect of your life? Don't throw everything away on something that might not happen in this lifetime. Sarah wouldn't want that for you."

Soft footfalls and they heavy bang of the door shutting signaled Aiden's departure. Jareth closed his eyes and leaned against the glass again. He knew Aiden was right, and he'd been waiting for the day his father would come to him demanding an heir. He knew he looked pathetic; he even felt pathetic, sick with longing after a woman he may never have the chance to be with again. But with every new life, her soul tugged at his, and it gave him hope that if they were still connected, that they would find each other again.

~o0o~

_Present time…_

Sarah Williams wiped the sweat from her brow with her forearm, smearing black soil across her forehead. After a long winter, the ground had finally thawed and she wasted no time cleaning out and planting her garden. Spring was her favourite season; everything felt so much more alive this time of year. Waking up to sunshine and birdsong was so much more pleasant that the silent darkness of a winter morning. The fresh air after a good rainfall was much sweeter than the musty smell of an old scarf and her steps even felt lighter without the bulky layers of warm clothing. This year the cold weather held on more tightly than usual, but when the warmth came, it barreled in with mid-summer temperatures. It was the end of May and Sarah was quite comfortable in an old, faded green sun dress and bare feet.

She stood up to admire her work. Colorful blooms dotted dark beds of soil and small green sprouts of some of her perennials held the promise of more color. Her vegetable garden took up one corner of the yard: rows of cherry and roma tomato plants, green and yellow beans, cucumbers for pickling, onions, zuccini, beets, carrots. By the end of the summer it would all be far too much for her and she would preserve some for herself for the winter and give the rest away to family and friends. Everyone made fun of her for planting more than she could ever eat, but were always eager to accept her offerings.

Walking over to her shed, she put away her gloves and tools and filled a green plastic watering can. Sarah wasn't sure why she suddenly acquired an interest in gardening and plants in general. At sixteen, she bought a house plant on a whim and kept it by the window in her room. Something just felt right about it and she almost instinctively knew what the plant needed. Soon enough, it had grown to the point where she had to transplant it into a bigger pot. In the spring and summer she would help Karen with the flower beds. After the first season, Karen was so impressed with how full and beautiful her flowers looked, that it became Sarah's job to tend them from then on. When she landed a permanent teaching job at 24, she bought this house and, four years later, she had her own little piece of paradise with a cozy sitting area surrounded by colorful arrangements of flowers, plants and shrubs. It was the perfect place to read, or wind-down the day with a glass of wine.

Having watered her newly planted flowers, Sarah put the watering can away and climbed the steps to her back door. Her house was small (only 600 square feet) but it was perfect for her. It was a cozy, older home with a large back yard. It had two bedrooms (perfect for when Toby came to visit), and a finished basement where she could entertain guests.

She walked through the kitchen, passed the living room, and into the bathroom to wash the day's grime away. "Damn," she said, peering into the mirror. "I guess I should have re-applied the sunscreen at least once more." Her nose, cheeks, chest and arms were pink and a little warm. And although she couldn't see it, she'd be willing to bet that her back and the back of her legs were a similar color. She sighed, tugging the elastic out of her dark hair before pulling her dress over her head. Her fair skin was simply not made for tanning. Every time she got a little sun, she would burn, peel, and be back to her pale self. She reached into the tub and turned on the spray before stepping in and letting the warm water flow over her head. She felt a slight sting where her skin was burnt, but the shower was refreshing nonetheless.

Once she was through, she dressed in a pair of black leggings and an oversized, gray sweatshirt and settled onto the sofa with a cup of tea to begin marking papers. With little more than a month left before exams, there was quite the pile of assignments to get through and it didn't take long before she was engrossed in her task.

A loud crash from the kitchen jerked her attention away from the essay she'd been reading. "What the hell?" she muttered, setting aside the papers and rising from the couch to investigate. One of her hanging pots had fallen, shattering the pot and spilling soil onto the linoleum. Cursing, she marched up to the mess and knelt down beside it. "Odd," she whispered, while she examined the chain. It was fully intact with no breaks or visible weak links. Her eyes floated up to the ceiling to find that both of the hooks that once held the plant appeared securely in place. "How on Earth did you manage to fall down?" she said, looking back to the upended plant. "Well, I'm sure I've got an extra pot in the shed to put you in for now," she said stroking the plant's leaves.

Flicking on the porch light, she made her way through the dark to her garden shed. Just as she opened the door, she heard another loud crash from some corner of the yard. A startled squeal escaped her mouth as she flung her arm to her chest. Sarah looked around the yard while trying to calm her breathing. "It's just the neighbor's cat," she told herself. Just as she had settled herself enough to turn back to the shed, a rustling in a nearby bush, followed by what she could have sworn sounded like snickering halted her again. "Just a cat Sarah, nothing to be afraid of." She groped blindly in the shed and grabbed the first thing that felt like a flower pot and quickly locked the shed door before sprinting back up to the house.

She locked the back door and leaned against it for a moment while catching her breath. This wasn't the first incident where strange, unexplained things had happened to her. It had started long ago, when she was still a teenager. Little things would go missing, like an apple from her lunch, or colored pencils she was using for a school project. Sometimes she would come home and things in her bedroom would be moved: books pulled off shelves, items on her vanity rearranged, or photo frames knocked over or nudged askew on the walls. At first, she blamed Toby, but when it started to happen when he was away and continued on after she moved out, Sarah didn't know what do think.

Well, that wasn't completely true. Some small, nagging part of her brain reminded her that these annoying little incidents started just after she dreamed that she wished Toby away to the Goblin Kingdom. That same part of her brain also insisted that it was never a dream, but that she had actually solved a labyrinth in another world filled with beings only found in fairy tales. It was easy to dismiss as a dream. After all, she had been practically obsessed with the little, red book that her dream was based around, acting out the heroine's part over and over in the park nearby her childhood home. And while she'd become adept at ignoring that nigling little voice in the back of her mind, instances like this gave her pause just long enough for the little voice to be heard and cast the tiniest bit of doubt on whether it all really was just some vivid nocturnal fantasy her over active imagination had produced.

But there was something else too - more dreams. They didn't come immediately: nearly two years later when she'd almost completely forgotten. In the beginning, they were just confusing snippets of brief encounters with fairy tale creatures; scenes of her finding her way through the winding paths of a maze; glimpses of her in an old-style city, running from pint-sized, armored creatures. It wasn't until she cleaned up her room before going off to university that she stumbled across the old, red book and upon skimming through the worn pages, she made the connection to the realistic dream she'd had at 15. But instead of fading as the years wore on, the dreams persisted and occurred more frequently. Around her 20th birthday, they began to change. In some of the first few, she wore a glittery, white dress with silver vines adorning her hair. All eyes seemed to be on her as she made her way across a grand ballroom. A hand, covered in black lether, stopped her by gently taking her arm, but before she could the person's face, the dream always ended.

Later, she would find herself in the familiar parts of the labyrinth, but no longer dressed in the jeans and white blouse she usually appeared in. Often, the dream would show her leisurely wandering through the hedge maze, stopping occasionally to admire the bright, otherworldly flowers. She was dressed in a long, sleeveless, tunic-style dress of dark green silk with a wide, gold corded neckline and a matching gold cord around her waist. A voice from behind her would grab her attention, and though the speech was garbled and unintelligible, in her dream she would always look on the speaker with affection. And again, the dream would always stop before she could get a look at her companion. This was how the dreams continued to evolve, with some set in the labyrinth, while others set in less familiar places that still felt well-known to her dreaming self.

In the last month or so, the dreams began to change again. This time allowing her small glimpses of her invisible companion: a lean silhouette here, a whisp of blond hair there, shiny black boots. There were even touches: a hand to on the small of her back, an arm around her waist, a (closed eye) kiss on the lips. She even swore that she caught his scent once or twice. And in recent weeks the encounters seemed to get longer and more intimate. But each time, her brain failed to fit the pieces together to complete the picture. And yet, she felt like she'd not only seen this man before, but knew him well.

Once she'd cleaned up the spilled soil, and given a temporary home to the fallen plant, Sarah washed her hands and glanced at the clock on the stove. It was nearing midnight. A series of dull thuds coming from her bedroom tore her eyes from glowing green numbers. "Really? Again?" she asked with mild frustration as she briskly made her way to the source of the clamor. Upon entering her room, she saw the books that normally sat on the floating shelf next to the door were scattered on the floor. "Oh, for the love of…" she grumbled, tilting her head back and pinching the bridge of her nose. With a sigh, she kneeled down to begin picking up. As she reached for the first book, she realized that while most of them were haphazardly thrown about, some lying open and on top of others, one book lay in the center, yet apart from the muddle of pages. It was a small, red, leather-bound book, its title stamped in gold across the front – The Labyrinth.

**A/N: Okay so slow start here. I feel a little like I've tried to cram too much into one chapter, but I want to set things up so that the rest of the story flows more easily and I can fill things in as we go. I was also a little worried that Jareth came across as being too much of a sap and that there is too much inane detail in Sarah's part.**

**Also, I really wanted to have chapter 2 written before I posted this, but unfortunately that's just not in the cards right now. I will hopefully have a little time later this week or this weekend to get some more writing done. **

**Please let me know what you think! Take care until next time!**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer: see prologue**_

_Chapter 2_

The wrinkled, old man sat in the dimly lit library, sifting through dusty, old tomes that were written in a language few were able to read anymore. He'd read each of them thousands of times in his long lifetime, and continued to peruse the fables and ancient legends even though he could recite most of them by heart. As former king, and now elder, of the Eternal Forest, Darius had seen so much in his lifetime that there was nothing new or exciting to look forward to when he woke each morning. So, he thought that whittling his days away reading stories he liked was better than spending his time interacting with people he didn't.

He would only surface for a while in the middle of the day to tell stories to his great-great grandson (one of the few bright spots in his monotonous life), or to wander the woods and rejuvenating any ailing flora in his path. It was the reason he looked as old as he did. When an immortal being managed to survive without getting killed (in lives as long as they lived, enemies were inevitable) and was ready to move on from this life, one could give away one's life force to those in need. Once all the life was given up, the soul was free from its vessel to seek a new existence. Each healing spell aged the caster a little or a lot depending on how big the damage. Darius had aged slowly, but visibly in the last 200 years since plants and trees didn't take much. Some days he felt like he was ready to give it all away, but it wasn't time yet.

When he started hiding himself away, his grandson Orrin, the current king of the Eternal Forest, would come in and pester him, saying that it wasn't healthy to stay cooped up in dingy old libraries. "Huh," he would reply, "at my age I hardly think my health is much of a concern anymore." Eventually, Orrin gave up and let the old man be.

His eyes lifted from worn pages at the sound of soft rapping at the door. "Come in," he called.

A goblin, standing no taller than his knee, shuffled in. He was dressed in dull, scuffed armor, and had dark, leathery skin. He had pointed ears and nose, black beady eyes, clawed, fat little fingers and a fang that peeked out from under a thin upper lip.

Most people dismiss goblins as being stupid and useless; grunts who are barely capable of accomplishing the simplest task. Like most races, there are goblins who are what they seem, but there are much more than one would believe who are quite intelligent and well-spoken. Their ability to sneak in and out of the mortal realm make them some of the best spies in the Underground and the misconceptions about their capabilities only makes their job easier. When threatened, they could be quite vicious, ganging up on their opponent and ripping him or her to shreds. They were also fiercely loyal to those who treated them well.

"Talon, do you have news?" Darius asked.

"Yes," a hoarse, screechy voice sounded from the goblin. "The time is near."

Darius's eyes widened at this, "Are you sure?"

Talon nodded. "The memories gain strength."

"So that's it? We just have to wait a little longer?"

"No," Talon shook his head, "When the memories are strong enough, we must bring her back."

"And how are we supposed to do that? Goblins don't have enough power to bring a mortal through the veil, and none of us who do could get to her without being summoned."

The goblin simply shrugged.

Darius sighed. "Very well then, contact me again when the memories are strong enough to bring her here and we'll try to find a way from there."

"There's more."

"More?" Darius's eyes widened.

Talon nodded again, "We have some problems."

Darius straightened, "What kind of problems?"

"The High King is getting impatient for his son to produce and heir. His Majesty is going to see the Goblin King soon."

"Well, that's not an immediate concern," Darius relaxed. "Surely Jareth can hold off his father a bit longer."

"Perhaps," Talon shrugged, "but there is a more pressing problem that may complicate things."

"Go on," Darius urged.

"We suspect a traitor amongst us."

"A traitor? How do you know?" Darius was incredulous.

"Some bits of information we have previously sought out has come out in court gossip. It hasn't been anything of consequence, but it is suspicious nonetheless."

Darius nodded and steepled his fingers under his chin. "Whoever banished Sarah to the mortal realm has never been discovered. It wouldn't do to have information about her progress getting to the wrong people."

"We are trying to limit involvement to only the most trusted and experienced, but there are never any guarantees especially when ale tends to loosen goblins' tongues." Talon explained. "There is a plan in motion to try and trap whoever has been leaking secrets."

"Very well then," Darius sat back. "I suppose that's the best we can do for now. Keep me informed and I will do what I can from here."

Talon gave a small nod and slipped quietly out of the room. Darius leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands along his face. Most of the people of the underground thought that the Princess of the Eternal Forest, turned Goblin Queen, was lost for good. She disappeared after the binding ceremony, but before it could be consummated so the bond was left incomplete.

Or so everyone believed.

Darius had his suspicions, but it wasn't until his great-grandson, Aiden, caught Jareth watching her through one of his crystals that they were confirmed. Jareth had flown into a rage and forcefully sent Aiden out of his castle. Perplexed at his friend's behaviour and shocked to see his sister's likeness in the magical orb, Aiden came to his great-grandfather for guidance. Darius advised Aiden to keep what he saw to himself and to give Jareth some space for the time being. He told the boy not to confront the Goblin King until Darius had a chance to look into the matter.

On a hunch, during one of his strolls through the woods, he walked over to the ruins of an ancient ceremony site that sat on the boarder of the kingdom of the Eternal Forest and the Goblin Kingdom. The site had been built long before the political lines between the kingdoms were drawn and had not been used for centuries. Very little of it remained, except for a mossy symbol on the ground at its centre which remained, surprisingly, intact. He could feel the residual magic almost instantly, faint as it was, like a whisper in a silent room. Wasn't it just like Sarah? She always did do things on her own terms without a care for what others thought.

When she was a child, she loved to listen to the ancient legends and fairy tales. After each story she would barrage him with questions, hungry for knowledge. When she became older, she could hold an in-depth discussion on literature and history better than some people his own age. As someone who found participating in the pageantry of nobility tedious, she devoured stories about the traditions of their people before all of the grandeur when the rituals were more about what they symbolized than how good one looked when they partook in them. Sarah was always a girl with a mind of her own and rarely could be forced into something she didn't want or kept away from something she did (at least not without a fight). It was the reason she didn't fit in with the other noble girls – not that she really wanted to most of the time. She called them "empty-headed social climbers" because to her, it seemed that all any of them were concerned about was looking pretty and marrying well.

So, she must have convinced Jareth to perform their own private binding ceremony before the "official" royal wedding. Sarah certainly knew enough about some of the old rituals, and Darius wouldn't have put it passed her to sneak into his library and do a little research if she needed to. It wasn't too surprising, really; all of the extravagant preparations for the celebration were wearing on her. "_Why can't we just perform the ceremony? Why does this need to be such a big to-do?_" she asked on more than one occasion.

"_Don't be silly Sarah,"_ her mother would say. _"You're a princess and Jareth is a king. An elaborate party in honour of your marriage is expected."_

That was the answer Sarah always got, and it was one she never could accept.

Upon returning from his walk, Darius summoned Aiden. "Tell no one else of what you saw in the Goblin Kingdom, nor of what I will tell you now," he said. "The fact that Jareth could see her in his crystals means there is a small chance that we might be able to get Sarah back. But," Darius raised his finger, "it could be years before it happens; the time needs to be just right. Meanwhile, he will need a friend and confidant. Go, speak to him and while you're there, send me one of his goblin subjects."

Now, more than 800 years later, things were finally starting to fall into place. It was up to him to make sure everything fit neatly back together and to stop anyone who would try to tear everything apart again. He and the goblins had some work to do.

~o0o~

Jareth was lounging in his throne, reading documents about the distribution of resources in the kingdom, when he felt the distinct sensation of magic very close by. Looking up from his documents, he saw his father standing at the far end of the throne room.

"Hello son," Rian greeted, then tsk-ed. "Such posture! Surely you don't think sitting like that befits a king?"

With a raised eyebrow, Jareth responded, "Hello father. I trust you are aware that I rule over goblins who smell of ale and chicken shit. We don't exactly stand on ceremony here most days."

"Still, if you want your subjects to respect you, you should always present yourself like royalty, not a sloppy teenager."

"My subjects respect me because I do my best to make sure they have what they need and I treat them fairly, not because I sit like I have something up my rear-end," Jareth retorted. "But I'm sure the purpose of your visit isn't just to school me on royal etiquette."

Rian smiled, "As a matter of fact, I've come to personally invite you to a ball being held at the castle in a fortnight."

"A ball?" Jareth swung his legs off the arm of the arm of the throne to stand-up and approach Rian. "What are you celebrating?"

Rian waved his hand in front of him, "Oh, nothing in particular. You're mother thought it would be nice to see a few old friends again. You know how she loves to play hostess."

"Hmm," Jareth muttered, now standing directly in front of his father. He crossed his arms and tapped his lips with two fingers. "So since there is nothing particularly special about this ball, it's not imperative that I be there, is it?"

"Now Jareth," Rian argued, "your mother would be very disappointed if you decided not to attend. And I'm sure there are a number of others who are looking forward to seeing you there."

Jareth narrowed his eyes and stared skeptically at his father. "These others wouldn't happen to be female would they?"

"And what if some of them are? Hm?" Rian replied, betraying some of his frustration. "You can't possibly live out the rest of your life alone here. You need a wife, you need…"

"An heir, I know." Jareth interrupted. "We've gone over this before."

"I can't believe that you of all people could spend so long pining after a dead woman."

"She wasn't killed, she disappeared that night," Jareth spat.

"And after more than 800 years without seeing hide nor hair of her, I think it's safe to say that she's likely dead."

"I'm not marrying one of those simpering, hollow-headed noble girls just to make you happy," Jareth snapped petulantly.

"This isn't about making me happy!" Rian roared, tired of this circular arguing. "This is about your responsibilities as king. This is about ensuring that there is someone to look after your subjects when either you take my place, or in the unfortunate event that something happens to you. You of all people should know that tragedy strikes at the most unexpected of times."

The last statement caused Jareth to flinch slightly. Rian's face softened and he visibly deflated, "I know you loved her, but you can learn to love another."

"No I can't …" Jareth began.

"Yes," the older man interjected, "you can. My marriage to your mother was an arranged one."

Jareth looked up at his father, brow furrowed. "What?"

Rian nodded before continuing, "Shortly after your mother was born, there was an agreement struck between my parents and hers. When I came of age and my father revealed that in a few short years I would be marrying the princess of The Great Mountains I was furious. I argued and looked for every loophole I could find to get out of this marriage. In the end, the damage of not marrying her outweighed the benefits." The High King shrugged, "For the first few years, we were miserable together. I felt like a wild animal, sentenced to live in a cage and I resented your mother for being my jailer. But after a while, I realized that she was forced into this as much as I was and that she mostly felt the same way except that she was in love with another before we were wed. We decided it that it wouldn't do to resign ourselves to suffering through this marriage the rest of our long lives so we made the best of it. We came to love each other as we got to know each other, and the rest, as they say, is history."

"I don't ever recall you and mother quarrelling, at least not for any length of time."

Rian gave a half-smile, "That's because you weren't conceived until after we made peace."

Jareth felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He never imagined that there would be a time that his parents practically hated each other. While their relationship was not as overtly warm as Sarah's parents', there was always at least some kind of affectionate respect and devotion between them. "If that's true," Jareth spoke, "then why did I not have a wife arranged for me? Surely you wanted to guarantee that your only son would marry."

Rian sighed and looked away before meeting his son's eyes again. "It crossed our minds, believe me. But in the end, we decided that you should have the chance to find your own wife. We wanted you to have the choice that we never had." He shook his head and drew in a deep breath. Placing his hand on Jareth's cheek he said, "Don't force my hand son. I still have no desire to put you in the same position my father did me, but I also have responsibilities. Find someone you can live with, and the rest will come over time."

Jareth's eyes dropped, but he didn't back away from his father's hand. "I can give you more time, but not much. Please don't waste it wishing for the woman you can't have," Rian's voice was barely above a whisper. He stepped back and dropped his hand. Jareth looked back up at him. "Remember, two weeks from now. We will dine first, then commence with the ball." With that, Rian transported himself out of the throne room, leaving Jareth alone.

Jareth stood still and stared at the spot his father just vacated. Holding out his hand he conjured a crystal. In the 13 years since he last saw her, he stopped himself from watching Sarah through his crystals. On some level, he knew his family and friends were right; he needed to move on, both for his own sake and for the sake of his kingdom. Yet, some part of him held fast onto her memory and reminded him that there was still a chance, however small.

He stared at the crystal. Just a thought – that's all it would take to see her image in the glassy orb. Like a recovering addict, he craved it; he bargained with himself that one more time wouldn't hurt, that it would ease the tightness in his chest. His face twisted into a frustrated grimace as his fingers tightened around the magical sphere. A wretched cry escaped his lips as he forcefully threw the crystal at the stone wall, causing it to disintegrate.

A pair of black, beady eyes watched from behind the throne as his king stalked out of the room.

**A/N: Hi all. Thanks so much to those who took the time to review! Although I don't believe in writing for the sake of them, your kind words are still very encouraging. Also, thank-you to those who are following the story and to anyone else who has taken the time to read the last couple of chapters. **

**Sorry about another part with angsty Jareth. I promise he won't be like this through the whole story, but it's so easy to get sucked into his torment sometimes as I write. I had planned on adding one more part, but I'm still kind of formulating it, and I figure that nearly 3000 words for one chapter is probably enough.**

**Anyway, as always, kind words are always welcome, but feel free to leave some honest feedback too. I'm finding it a bit of a challenge to keep my story straight since I'm posting this chapter-by-chapter and I can't go back and change what's already been published (well I can, but it's a pain if I need to make major changes). So if there are any glaring inconsistencies, or spelling and grammar errors, please let me know.**

**Take care! Until next time!**


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